Only The Brave
by sdbubbles
Summary: "The days of summer came; days of many heartaches; not to love is not to live; not to live is to feel no pain; so unlock this heart of stone; teach me the ways of mystery; in the places where they say; only the brave can walk alone."


**A/N: This is set after "Recovery Position," and the song is "Only The Brave" by Runrig. Blame my mother. She was the one who got it stuck in my head.**

**Sarah x**

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_Twelve o'clock at night  
Streets of many corners  
The lunar river winds  
Down the closes and the lanes_

As Hanssen parked the car, he looked at the clock on the dash. It was just about midnight. He didn't know what brought him here. He just remembered seeing the pain disguised by fury in her eyes, and that she needed someone, as much as she demanded she be left to walk alone.

He looked outside at the street sign and realised he was in the wrong place. This was not the address he'd found in her contact details. These streets were like a maze to him; despite living in Holby for over two years now, he'd never ventured to the part of the suburbs before. He sighed and looked outside, deciding maybe it was better to find her house on foot rather than drive round and round. Maybe he could find a short cut, though he was doubtful.

He got out; the air was bitingly chilly. He decided to try going back the way he came. He reached the end of the road and took the next corner, looking for a sign. He found he was in the right road now. It frustrated him he'd only got one turn-off too far, but he was unfamiliar with this part of the city.

The moonlight swept over the streets, and he admired for a moment the grand shadows cast by houses, cars and gardens. He noticed her car under that bright light and found he knew exactly where to go. He felt slightly intrusive going into the front garden; truth be told, he didn't really know why he was here. Logic hadn't led him here, most definitely. If logic was at work right now, he would have been as far from her as humanly possible, not standing on her doorstep, ringing the bell.

_The night skips the sleeping years  
And re-awakes the memory  
Takes me along the way  
To the places of the heart_

He heard her clamber down the stairs and unlock the door, grumbling to herself about idiots ringing her doorbell at midnight. He had to allow himself an inward smirk when she opened the door. He'd just caught her pulling a dressing down over herself, but she hadn't stopped him from catching a glimpse of the skimpy nightdress underneath. Had he just found Serena Campbell in a compromising position?

"What the bloody hell are you playing at?!" she demanded, looking rather stunned. She looked different. Younger. The light the moon shed on her already pale skin gave it a somewhat radiant, albeit slightly ghostly, glow.

The difference reminded him of her anger as she'd laid the law down to him about how she was handling her mother. She'd been aggressive and furious, a force he dared not stand against. Now, though, in her fluffy pink dressing gown, she looked innocent, almost slightly vulnerable. It was astounding the difference the lack of clothes and make up did to a woman; in this case, it made the terrifying Serena seem softer and a tiny bit fragile.

"It's freezing," he reminded her. "You'll catch your death if you stand at the door like that," he said, nodding to her bare feet and legs.

"Then why don't I close the door?" she replied.

"Because you know why I am here," he answered immediately. He definitely hoped she knew, because he didn't. He just had felt some odd desire to help her. He'd lost a mother, at a very young age, and, though Serena's mother had not died, the loss was almost the same. She was there in body but there was no spirit left.

To his surprise, she stood aside and let him in, leading him to the living room.

_The days of summer came  
Days of many heartache  
Not to love is not to live  
Not to live is to feel no pain_

He almost wished for summer as his hands were so cold, but summer never went well for him. It seemed to be when everything began to go wrong every year. As he sat down on the sofa, he felt her sit down, placing her body as far from his as she could. "Why are you here?" she asked. "Is this over me taking my mother into private care?"

"No," he replied. "No. I thought...well, I thought you could use a friend, since you appear to be hell bent on pushing everyone you know away at the moment."

She gave a short humourless laugh and retorted, "Is that the pot I hear calling the kettle black?"

"That is how I know," he answered, his replies coming more readily to him than he expected. He wasn't thinking about what he was saying for a change; he was just letting it come out the way his heart said it. "You can't live without letting other people love you, and you can't live without someone to love, whether they're around you or not."

"Yes, well," she said, shifting uncomfortably in her corner of the sofa. "In my experience, loving people generally causes nothing but trouble and heartache."

"Living without pain is living without love, Serena, and that isn't a life at all," he told her. "Pain is the most unpleasant of feelings and yet it is too often the only thing that reminds us we are human."

"I don't think anyone imagines either of us as human," she admitted. "I don't think they can picture us as children, with a mum and a dad and scraped knees and toys."

"I do understand what it is to lose a mother. Not in the same way, of course, as your mother is still alive. But the concept of losing someone you once knew so well, and depended upon, is the same," he said. He didn't know why he was being so open. He was never open, until now. Until she needed him to be. She gave him a curious look. It was clear she had no energy left for aggression and sarcasm. She was tired. Tired of fighting for and with everything and everyone. "My mother," he began, swallowing back the lump in his throat at the memory. "She committed suicide when I was young."

"I'm sorry," she said, her expression one of sincerity and sadness.

_So unlock this heart of stone  
Teach me the ways of mystery  
In the places where they say  
Only the brave can walk alone_

He felt something stir inside him at hearing something sincere finally come out of her mouth; he always doubted whether to believe the things she said. After all, she was a master manipulator. "It's fine," he quickly said, unable to come up with anything different. "Well, it isn't, but I'm sure you understand what I mean when I say it."

"I do," she smiled sadly. "I've been saying it my whole life. Of course, it means I am consistently on my own."

He let himself feel cautious for once. He let himself wonder why she would rather go it alone than ask for help, rather than criticise for her. She was wrong to do it, in his eyes, but he was hardly one to talk, was he? These places they took their hearts, these places in which they found only pain and anger, were the ones they revisited the most. He often wondered why he did it to himself.

"Only the brave people can walk this world alone, Serena," he informed her.

"I'm not brave," she answered and, despite the façade she created around her of being the hardest and most unyielding of women, he believed her.

"Neither am I," he confessed. "Which begs the question, why do we insist on attempting it?"

"Because only the brave can do it," Serena said, "but the foolish will try anyway."

That was an excellent point; neither of them were brave. They were both simply foolish. He found it endearing that he'd found a way in, and that he could now understand the woman who had done nothing but irritate and anger him for months. Seeing her curled up on the sofa, he saw her in a different light. He saw her as human. He saw her as breakable, and it changed how he viewed himself.

"So," he gave her a tiny smile. "If we are not brave, just foolish, why try and live alone?"

"Because we're idiots," she stated bluntly. He allowed her a smile for her brutal honesty.

_You took me through this town  
And you took me to the moment  
That makes angels lose their wings  
And makes poets lose their wonder_

He eyed her cautiously as she started to move, inching towards him. He knew, in the back of his mind, what she wanted, because he feared he wanted the same. If they both wanted it, what was stopping them?

Fear? Stupidity? Cowardice?

He found he was moving slightly across the sofa, but not in the direction he'd been expecting; he'd expected his head to force him backwards, not for his heart to take him towards her. Her hands were on his face, and he stared at her a moment, wondering if she she really wanted this and wasn't simply trying to ease the ache of her mother's pain.

She kissed him gently, and he couldn't help responding. Logic went out the window. He kissed her back, harder than he'd first intended, but she just pulled him tighter to her body. Leading with his heart, he pulled her on top of him, letting her kiss him until there was no resistance left in him.

Her hands wandered down his chest, and he could feel his heart beat against her soft fingers. Why was he allowing this? She was everything he'd spent his life avoiding. But there was something in her tonight, a vulnerability only he could see. He'd been told she was close to tears speaking to people this past week, but this was more than that. This was the crack she'd been trying to hide. She, like him, was lonely.

She dragged them both to their feet, never stopping kissing him, her hands grasping his shirt tightly. She started moving to the door and he realised what she was doing. Part of him wanted to tell her to stop, but the other part, the dominant part, just wanted to feel again, and she was making him do that. How, he wasn't entirely sure, but she was doing it.

"I should go home," he whispered between kisses.

_But I have found in you  
A love line pure and lasting  
May your heart hold true  
And your nights run long_

"Stay," she almost ordered him. "Stop being an idiot and stay."

"Why are we doing this?"

"Because we're not brave enough to walk alone, and not foolish enough to try anymore," she reminded him. At this, he smiled against her lips and succumbed, allowed her to guide their intertwined bodies up the stairs. He opened her bedroom door and she pulled him in. "Not to love is to feel no pain, and not to feel pain is not to live," she asserted. "We need to start living."

She pulled him down onto the bed with her, her hands on his back, pulling him close.

He smiled at her wisdom and leaned down to kiss her again, knowing full well she was right. He untied the belt on her dressing gown and smiled to himself yet again; he hadn't smiled this much in a long time, and he knew he'd spent too long hiding. They were both as bad as each other for trying to avoid pain and weakness and vulnerability, but they'd found each other in the midst of their internal chaos. And for that, he realised as her fingers began to unbutton his shirt, he was thankful.

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**Hope this is OK!  
Please feel free to review and tell me what you think!  
Sarah x**


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